Nobodies
by UryuuByakuyaBabe
Summary: John and Sherlock are paired up for a Science assignment, but learn a bit more about each other and themselves than they bargained for. High school AU! And I chucked in a load of quotes from the show because, y'know, I could.


"And John, you have been paired with...Sherlock." There was a groan from the rest of the class. They had wanted to work with Sherlock, but no. The teacher had picked, and this time, it was John.

Nobody particularly liked Sherlock. He was cruel, emotionless. He spoke down to people, could tell you all their secrets without batting and eyelid and liked to think of himself as high and mighty.

In things like Science though, everybody wanted to be Sherlock's partner. As John walked up, he could immediately see why. Sherlock was top of the school for science. He usually told his partners to let him work alone, and that idea suited most people. But not John.  
John Watson wanted to be a Doctor, and he wasn't going to let the know-it-all of the class, Sherlock Holmes, stop him from getting there. He sat down next to the dark haired boy and nodded.

"When do you want it finished by?" Sherlock asked.

"WE'LL finish it when we finish it." John answered, not even looking in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock seemed alarmed for a few seconds before regaining his composure and listening to the science teacher.

"I am only giving you one night for this assignment." Mr Anderson sneered. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the man. It was bound to be a hard project; the man had been trying to catch out the boy genius for years.

" I have paired you all up randomly. The aim of the project is to get the other person to like you, and give a class speech on their psychological thought processes and what different actions cause different results. This means EVERYONE in the class will have to be involved."

As the class set about 'making new friends', Anderson strolled over to Sherlock and John's desk smugly.

"You know you're going to get an F on this one, don't you Sherlock? Because you're a psychopath who can't deal with other people."

"I'm a highly-functioning sociopath! Do your research!" Anderson sniffed and went back to his desk. Sherlock pressed the tips of his fingers together and leant his forehead on them.

"Well, if you're willing to go through with this, so am I." Sherlock sighed and nodded.

"At least you're willing to give it a chance. Would you be free to come round mine after school? I want to do a full analysis, and maybe I could teach you the same." John nodded.

"Sure. If it's for homework. We can't let Anderson win." Nobody liked Mr Anderson.

"So, what's the address?" Sherlock wrote it down on a piece of paper, along with his home number.

"221B Baker Street. I live with my Grandmother." John nodded, and slipped the paper into his pocket.

"Would you want me to stick around at break and lunch too? Only, I know you want to do well on this." Sherlock turned to him and smirked.

"Naturally. I can see you're intent on getting good science grades too. From the look of interest on your face, especially when we switch to the human biology side of things, I take it you want to be a Doctor. Also, with the extra-curricular physical activities, I'd say sports scientist? But no, you say you hate the subject itself, but that you needed it. In what place would you need fitness and medical knowledge? An army Doctor perhaps?" John froze.

"That was...brilliant." Sherlock smirked.

"I could get used to having you around. Not many people reply that way."

"Well, what do they usually say?"

"Piss off." John giggled at that while Sherlock chuckled, grins on their faces. Anderson seemed mildly shocked. He didn't expect things to be going so well already.

...

John met Sherlock in the school library at break. He didn't have people to meet or friends to hang out with, so it wasn't too much trouble.

John, Sherlock and a couple of others were known as Nobodies. They could swing in and out of rooms and no one would acknowledge them. They didn't have friends. They were too...different.

John was a Nobody because of his sister, Harry. A lesbian. Of course, all the kids at Barts were posh snobs and extremely narrow minded, so this did absolutely nothing for John's reputation. Sherlock's intelligence alone was enough to get him hated instantaneously.

While in the Library, they bumped into one of Sherlock's primary school colleagues, another Nobody named Greg Lestrade. John knew him from P.E. classes after school. He was on about the same fitness level as John. Sherlock though was something else altogether. You wouldn't think it looking at the slim, pale boy, but he had speed and endurance, making him utterly killer on Sports Days.

"So, you want to go into Military work too?" John had asked while waiting for Sherlock. Greg shook his head.

"Not my division. I want to be a Detective Inspector." Sherlock walked in at that moment, spun a chair around to face them, and sat down.

"What about you, Sherlock?" John asked. "What do you want to be?"

"I've created my own job. It's called a 'Consulting Detective'. Whenever the Police are out of their depths, which is always, they call me." John nodded. Both wanted law enforcement jobs.

"I'm glad Sherlock wants to help out in the law stuff." Greg sighed. "Or he'd probably be the one putting the bodies there."

"I get...bored." Sherlock sighed. "Nothing better than a Serial Killer on a dull weekend. At least I'm attempting to be good. Unlike some people I know..." John understood who he had meant.

There was only one other person in the school that could match Sherlock's intelligence, but they had to be kept in separate classes to stop them from fighting with one another. Jim Moriarty. Now he was a psychopath. Great in drama classes, but a psycho nonetheless.

John made a few mental notes. Sherlock wants to be good. Wants to use intelligence to help others. Will only talk to those who are interesting. Likes to be original. Has a knowledge of crime. Is intimidated (?) by people as clever as him. Has a dark sense of humour.

Sherlock, meanwhile, was questioning John in order to build a wider file on him.

"How's Harry?" John shrugged.

"Fine." Accepting. Proof of this is no hesitation to talk of homosexual sister, and his agreement to help me. Helpful. Hardworking by the extra hours he puts in at school. Interested in other people's opinions of things, asking Lestrade and I about future choices. Knows what happens, but doesn't like to get involved. He had heard of Moriarty but didn't question me further.

Sherlock smiled. John stared at him.

"Are you okay?" He nodded.

"This assignment won't be as dull as I thought, by the looks of things. I may actually have something interesting on my hands." John blushed at what he knew was a compliment, while Sherlock added another note.

Likes compliments, but doesn't know how to believe or accept them.

...

John sat in the canteen at lunch, chewing on an apple as Sherlock came over with a tray of beef, peas and roast potatoes.

"Thanks again for agreeing to this." Sherlock murmured, not making eye contact. John smirked.

"It's fine." Not used to making compliments.

"So, you know about my sister. What family have you got?" Sherlock sighed.

"My Grandmother, whom you shall meet tonight, and my brother Mycroft, who you will probably meet because he loves sticking his nose in my business where it's not wanted." Respects grandmother, but traces of sibling rivalry.

"And you?" John shrugged.

"My big sister and her fiance Clara. Clara's alright, Harry needs to get her head sorted out. Bad drinker." John slightly shivered as he said this. Sherlock nodded, wanting to intrude, but having the decency not to do so.

Must have seen Harry in a state, yet as there is no embarrassment, only fear, she must be aggressive towards him. As Clara is only 'alright', she mustn't be helping the situation. And his quick agreement to coming over tonight...is he being hurt at home? Is that why he's so eager to not go back tonight? Wait a second...

Sherlock tilted his head and John raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you hold your sleeves like that?" John looked down, to find himself clutching the cuffs of his white school shirt. He shrugged.

"Habit. No reason." Sherlock sighed.

"Then you'll let me inspect them then?" John sighed in defeat and threw his hands out, looking around the canteen. Big purple blotches seemed to travel up his arms.

Harry beats him when drunk, and Clara probably does nothing to help.

"How did you get these?" John shrugged.

"Sport." Not so quick to trust as I first suspected. Trying to protect his sister, maybe? He flinches like Nanny...it must be Domestic Violence.

Sherlock pulled out his mobile and texted away, to John's confusement. He was sending a text to his Grandmother.

Do we have a spare room? Domestic Violence victim. Needs help. Drunkard sister.-SH

It wasn't long until he got a reply, while John waited for the explanation he was never going to receive.

Of course, love. Bring them over, We'll sort them out for a while. xxx-NH

Sherlock smirked down at his phone.

"Grandmother says you can stay the night if you wish." John smiled in relief. Sherlock's deduction had been proven correct.

"If it's not a problem."

"You can thank her when we get home." Suddenly, the canteen double doors closest to the duo were flung open, and a small, grinning Irish boy walked through and gasped at Sherlock.

"My, my, Sherlock, What do we have here, eh? A friend? Well, isn't that something?" Sherlock rolled his eyes at his ex-classmate.

"Moriarty. If you have no business with John and I, please remove yourself from my sight. You're as bad as Anderson for distracting me." Moriarty just tutted.

"Come now Sherlock, I'm not that bad, am I? At least I'm more interesting than that idiot from Science." Sherlock nodded.

"I had forgotten they had switched you to I.T." John stifled a laugh. I.T. was low. It was where all the non academic kids went. Moriarty glared at him.

"At least my sister's not an alcoholic lesbian." John froze and growled. Moriarty smirked at the match point.

"I saw her walking home the other night. I heard the shouts and the crashing from your house. 'Please don't hurt me, Harry..."

And with that, John stood up and punched him around the face, before tackling him to the floor. Sherlock watched all of this with glee.

Overprotective of big sister, sister is patience point, very strong, knows nervous points...oh come on, he's just showing off now...

...

"Hello?" A small woman with a kind face skittered into the hallway.

"Oh, Sherlock love, how was school?" Sherlock hugged the old lady. John smiled.

Is emotionally attached to those he cares about. Doesn't like to show it.

"Fine, Nanny. John, this is Nanny Hudson." The woman smiled and ruffled John's sandy hair.

"I have a room set up upstairs, though you boys can share, can't you?" Sherlock shrugged. John nodded.

"Thank you." The woman's smile faded and she sighed, staring at John.

"You haven't eaten in a while, have you?" John stopped.

"How did you know?" She shrugged.

"Sherlock texted me. Only an apple for lunch. And us types, we don't ask for much, do we?" John stared at her curiously. What did she mean by that? How were they similar?

Mrs Hudson sighed and lifted up her cardigan sleeves to reveal scars and permanent bruises. John stared.

"You're not alone, love. My husband...he did this. Sherlock stopped him and got us away. I know you care about your sister, love, but you're free to stay here for as long as you want."

John was awe struck. He had thought he was alone, that no one close to him knew what was going on, knew what it was like.

Tears fell down his face as frail arms wrapped around him and supported him. Sherlock watched in interest.

He wants to be understood, explained by emotional barrier downfall at understanding. Is scared, but brave as he doesn't show it. Trusts those he can relate to. John sniffed and wiped his eyes with a sleeve.

"How did you know about Harry?" Mrs Hudson tilted her head towards Sherlock, sat on the stairs behind her.

"He texted me. He figured it out. As emotionless as he may appear, all Sherlock really wants to do is help." John turned to face Sherlock, who nodded sternly. John smiled and whispered quietly.

"Thank you." Sherlock nodded in reply, and with that, ran upstairs, hoping John would follow.

...

"Do you play any musical instruments?" Sherlock asked out of the blue after five minutes of grateful silence.

"Oh, uhm, yes, the...uh, piano. Piano." Sherlock nodded, sharp blue eyes scanning John for any hints that he was uncomfortable with Sherlock knowing his secret. Fortunately, John seemed to trust him. That was a good thing.

"And you?"

"The violin. I compose when upset. I wrote a lot just before Nanny left Grandfather." John nodded. Sherlock's part of the flat wasn't tidy at all, in fact, it was covered in paper and weird experiments. John could see the violin sitting snugly in the corner near his bookcase. A skull was perched on the edge of the mantlepiece.

"Is that a skull?"

"A friend of mine." Sherlock hesitated. "When I say friend..."

"What do you boys want for tea?" Mrs Hudson asked suddenly. John shrugged.

"I'm starving. I'll eat anything!" Sherlock smiled.

"How about something roasted, Nanny?" She grinned.

"Of course, my dears! I'll be downstairs if you need me!" And with that, she was gone.

Sherlock smiled until was down the stairs and suddenly straightened up again.

"Thanks, Sherlock." Sherlock turned to John.

"What for?"

"Helping." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Do you understand how boring people are? I could sit here all day watching happy families. Now, distraught ones, I'm interested in, and for the safety of observational purposes, like to keep the victims safe. Your case is special, because you are an extremely clever individual with the bravery of a thousand, yet get emotional at the slightest hope of happiness. You're content, but not happy. Far from. And that, my friend, is interesting." He had begun pacing the room, flaunting his hands as he talked, eyes continuously on the ceiling or floor.

John was beginning to find the child genius absolutely fascinating. He just wasn't normal in the slightest. And the way the streetlight from the window was hitting his face...it was mesmerizing.

Beautiful.

...

They had been eating, conversing with phatics for the majority of the meal before the doorbell had rang. Sherlock had warned John, and he had been right. Mycroft had heard of the guest at 221B Baker Street, and had come to investigate.

"So, my little brother has a friend now, does he?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Your face is putting me off my food." John giggled while Mrs Hudson tutted. Sherlock soon joined in with chuckles of his own.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." Mycroft sneered.

"Not in the slightest. Who are you then?" John smiled.

"John. Watson. Science partner." Mycroft nodded.

"I have no idea what my brother wants with you. You don't seem very interesting..."

"Back off." Sherlock almost growled the warning, but it was too much of a sharp vibrato whisper to be classed as that. Mycroft froze and a smug smile appeared on his face.

"I see. Already moved in together and now doing science projects together. Can we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

"Sorry, what?" John was confused. Sherlock sighed.

"Leave him alone, Mycroft. And not by the end of the week. Try tomorrow." John was really dizzy. The conversation was moving too fast for him. Mycroft nodded.

"Very well. See you tomorrow, brother. I'll tell Mumsy you said hello."

...

"What was that about?"

"Just ignore him. We don't get on."

"Sibling rivalry. I guessed." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. John was more observant than he thought. He was even...impressed by the boy's deduction.

John sat down in front of the burning fireplace, and closed his eyes. He looked so peaceful, blonde hair glowing beside the flames, eyes shut and breathing heavily. He was a picture of pure perfection. His eyelashes fluttered as he felt Sherlock's gaze upon him; he felt vulnerable like this, but still trusted the boy enough to stay that way.

Sherlock wanted to reach out and touch his still watermarked face, the tired eyes, the blemished beauty in front of him. John at that moment was the most interesting being on the planet, and nothing could distract Sherlock from him. This brave boy had been through so much pain yet had come out so brave, strong and kind...

And then it hit him.

Sherlock dived for the material hanging on the back of the sofa. John opened one eye and stared in confusion as Sherlock wrapped it around himself and rocked back and forth slightly.

"Are you alright?"

"F-fine. I'm in shock, look, I have a blanket! Why do emotions exist?" He yelped, burying his head in his clothed knees.

"Emotions are useless! Why do I still have them?" John walked over and placed a hand on his knee in concern. The homework, he could ignore that for now. Sherlock was upset. The boy who had done so much for him was sad. John was going to make it right.

"It's okay. It's normal to have emotions. Human. You're still human, Sherlock." Sherlock looked up at him, big blue eyes filled with fear...and was that possibly...no?

Adoration?

John ignored it. He wasn't meant to be analysing him, he was meant to be helping him. Analysing was Sherlock's job.

"It's okay to have emotions. It means you're human. ot that I think so, you've been an angel to me today, you really have..."

"I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for a second I am one, John Watson!" With that, he lay down so that he was facing the back of the sofa. John was confused and still wanted to help, but thought it best to leave him alone.

...

The next morning, Sherlock seemed to have forgotten his immature behaviour from the previous night. John had adopted it instead as they left the house.

"Do you really have to do that?" He asked.

"Do what? Sherlock asked. John sighed and stormed forward.

"You and your cheekbones and turning up your coat collar so you look cool..." Sherlock smiled at the hint of the blush he caught.

John stayed with him at break. He thought he at least owed Sherlock the company.

Jim came back to pester them in the Library.

"I.T. this morning! Photoshopping! Honey, you should see me in a crown!" Sherlock rolled his eyes. He really wasn't interested. He was focusing on John.

He felt guilty about the night before, and didn't quite know how to apologise or accept what he had learnt. Jim snapped at him.

"Are you listening? If you're not, I'll have to..."

"Let me guess, you'll kill me." Jim scoffed.

"Kill you? No, no, no...don't be obvious. I won't kill you, well, no, I'll do that someday anyway. But I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I've been reliably informed I don't have one." Jim smirked and pointed to John, whispering in Sherlock's ear.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Sherlock froze. Jim was as good at deductive reasoning as he was. Had he really been that obvious?

John turned around to see a pained expression on Sherlock's face. What on Earth was Moriarty saying to him?

...

Science class came around far too quickly, and just to make it more tedious, Anderson left Sherlock and John till last.

"Watson. Tell us all about Sherlock." John cleared his throat.

"Well, he lives with his Grandmother who he is extremely close to. He has an older brother with whom he shares undefeatable sibling rivalry. He plays the violin as he finds it hard to express emotions and composes music when he is upset. Protective over those he likes. Gets bored extremely easily, which is leading him towards a career in crime fighting. Overall, extremely caring to those he likes or finds interesting, and extremely helpful." John sighed, before looking up at Sherlock.

"I was so alone." He murmured. "And I owe you so much. Thank you." Sherlock nodded his appreciation at the added comment. Anderson sneered.

"Well, well, looks like you made a friend. But is it a two-way deal? C'mon Sherlock." Sherlock stood up and passed John, winking as he past.

"John..." Sherlock smirked and looked at the floor, trying to hide his contentedness.

"John is a normal boy that lives with his sister and her girlfriend, but is moving out into the flat of his newly discovered Grandmother. Likes jam. Brave. High endurance levels. Plays the piano. Doesn't trust people unless he can relate to them. wants to become a Military Doctor. Is caring and overprotective of those he cares about. Very loyal and trustworthy." He then grinned, finally facing the truth.

"Another thing people don't know about John is how beautiful he is." The whole class froze into a deep silence. Sherlock's grin didn't leave, but a heavy blush formed around it.

"He's quietly sophisticated and artistic, but an extremely interesting individual that people take for granted. John...he's incredible. Greater than any other person our age I've met." He smiled at John.

"I don't have friends. I've just got one. And hopefully, he wouldn't mind being something else to me too." John froze.

Sherlock, brilliantly amazing Sherlock, his saviour, had not only kept the secret of his bruises from the class, but had virtually asked him out in front of the whole lot. John could feel his cheeks warming up under Sherlock's steady but calming gaze. All eyes were on John.

"I, err...well...oh, who am I kidding? Of course!" Sherlock grinned.

"Brilliant."

...

"Who are we waiting for, the Queen of England?" John asked as they sat at the dinner table, not touching their food. The door slammed and Mycroft entered the room. Sherlock nodded.

"It looks like it." They stared at each other before bursting into laughter, Mycroft glaring at them in silence.

"So?" Sherlock grasped John's hand under the table, and John finally got it.

"I meant it as a joke, Mycroft, but it actually happened, yes." John went red and stared at his food as Mycroft sat down and they began eating.

...

"NO! OF COURSE HE'S NOT THE BOY'S FATHER! JUST LOOK AT THE TURN UPS ON HIS JEANS!" Sherlock sunk back into John's lap. John just smiled at the boy in pajamas and dressing gown, before stopping.

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"Are you wearing any pants?"

"No."

"Oh, okay." Silence.

Queue the laughter.


End file.
